


Take Care

by nightrose



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Comfort, Dom/sub, Kneeling, M/M, Oral Sex, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightrose/pseuds/nightrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kinkmeme. Enjolras helps Grantaire recover from alcoholism by gently dominating him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Care

Enjolras opens the door to their apartment, where Grantaire is slumped over the desk. “How was your day?”

Grantaire buries his face in his hands and confesses, quietly, “I want a drink.” 

Enjolras looks at him. His face is pale, his hands shaking. He steps closer to the other man. “How do you feel?”

“Sick. Like I’m gonna throw up. Nervous.”

“Did you?”

“Throw up? No.”

“I meant drink, love.”

Grantaire shakes his head. “I wouldn’t… I’m sorry.” His face twists up with shame. “I didn’t mean to… to be… I’m such a…”

“Shh,” Enjolras soothes. “Stand up.”

Grantaire does, looking at Enjolras with anxiety in his eyes. Enjolras wraps his arms around the other man and presses a kiss to his sweaty curls.

“I’m proud of you for telling me, R.”

“Thank you.”

Enjolras tilts Grantaire’s chin up with careful fingers. “Do you want me to take you down?”

“I… I don’t want to be a bother. You probably have work…”

“That wasn’t the question,” Enjolras snaps, just harsh enough to get an honest answer.

Grantaire looks down. “Yes, sir. Please.”

“Good boy. Go to the bedroom, get a pillow.”

Grantaire obeys. While he’s gone, Enjolras takes off his jacket and spreads his papers out on the desk, sitting on the chair. On Grantaire’s return, he points at the floor under the desk. 

“Kneel.” He positions the pillow between his spread legs and Grantaire crawls into place, resting back on his heels, looking up at Enjolras. “Comfortable?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to leave you there until I’m done my work. You need anything, you ask for it, that’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So good.” Enjolras uses a fistful of Grantaire’s hair to guide Grantaire’s head onto his knee. Grantaire sighs, content, and rests there, sneaking a quick kiss against Enjolras’ leg before all the tension bleeds out of his body. He softly strokes Grantaire’s hair as he works, flipping through his political science reading. Half his attention is on the words, but the other half is on Grantaire.

Grantaire is relaxed, his head growing heavier and heavier as tension bleeds out of him. Enjolras can feel his breath slowing, relaxing. He runs his hands through Grantaire’s hair, scratching at his scalp just a little before repeating the gentle caress. Grantaire lets out a quiet moan.

“My own good boy,” Enjolras praises. “Thank you for letting me take care of you.”

Grantaire, obedient as always, says nothing, just rests against Enjolras’ knee.

 

“How do you feel?” Enjolras asks when he turns the last page of the reading, about an hour later.

“Better, sir.” 

“Good.” The tremors are gone, and Grantaire’s face is again its normal pink color. “What do you want?”

Sometimes, the answer is still ‘a drink.’ “Whatever you want,” Grantaire says blissfully.

“That’s my boy. “I want to take care of you, love.”

“But—“ Grantaire casts a meaningful look at Enjolras’ erection.

“Later. You need to rest, you’ll feel better.”

Grantaire has no strength to fight. “Yes, sir.”

Enjolras leans in and kisses his forehead. “Good boy. I’m going to get you something to eat. Did you have lunch?” 

Grantaire looks down. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh. This is why you have me to take care of you, little love. You rest.”

Enjolras walks over to their small kitchen. He puts together a plate of crackers, cheese, and grapes, foods he keeps around more or less for this purpose. When he returns, Grantaire is still kneeling obediently underneath his desk. Enjolras smiles. “So good. Here.”

He sits back down, offering Grantaire a grape. Grantaire takes it from his fingers with his mouth, sucking it into his mouth. Next he gives him a square of cheese. Grantaire eats, then kisses Enjolras’ fingertips reverently. Enjolras gives him a cracker, lets him nibble at it, strokes his hair gently with his other hand.

Grantaire licks at his fingers, sucking them into his mouth. His eyes are wide, dazed, but he smiles around Enjolras’ fingers as he accepts bite after bite of food. When the plate is clean, Grantaire leans against Enjolras’ knee again. “Sir,” he murmurs.

“What is it?”

“Please.” He presses a kiss to the bulge in Enjolras’ pants. “Let me.”

“Hush. Shh.” Enjolras pets his hair. “If that’s what you want, my own.” He undoes his pants, pulling Grantaire in. “No hands. Relax.” He pushes Grantaire’s head down on his erection. Grantaire sucks hard at the head of his cock, then relaxes his throat, letting Enjolras push him all the way down. He chokes a little, and Enjolras eases up, letting him set his own pace. He strokes Grantaire’s hair apologetically as the other man starts to move.

Grantaire licks and kisses at the tip of his cock, then at the base, his tongue making long lines all the way down. His movements are almost worshipful, his eyes meeting Enjolras’. He mouths at the underside, at the spot just beneath the head that he knows is particularly sensitive, until Enjolras can’t bear it anymore.

“So good,” Enjolras praises, using a hand to guide Grantaire’s head back down onto his cock. He holds Grantaire in place, urging him to continue sucking. Grantaire moans quietly around his dick and does. “Good boy.” Grantaire’s eyes close at the praise, soaking in the feeling of being adored. Enjolras tightens a hand in his hair. He starts to move Grantaire a little, just forceful enough to drive him deeper into subspace, not enough to make him choke again. Grantaire sucks eagerly, his cheeks hollowed, his eyes on Enjolras’ face, reading the pleasure there. “I’m going to come,” Enjolras gasps in warning, and Grantaire hums and continues sucking as Enjolras spends down his throat.

 

“Fuck,” Enjolras pants, pulling Grantaire away so he can watch him swallow. He runs his fingertips along Grantaire’s throat. “You are so perfect.”

Grantaire kisses Enjolras’ hand. “Thank you, sir.” His voice is a little rough from the choking earlier. 

“Up. In my lap.”

Enjolras helps him up and pulls him into the chair. Grantaire settles there, his head on Enjolras’ shoulder, his hands behind his back. Enjolras opens his pants, pulling out his swollen cock. 

“This looks like it hurts, love.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you like to come?”

“Yes, sir.” Grantaire’s voice is distant, almost lost. Like the only thing tethering him is Enjolras.

He wraps a hand around Grantaire’s erection, stroking it firmly a few times. He kisses Grantaire’s forehead, then his bared throat when he tilts his head back. “You have permission, love.”

“Thank you, sir,” Grantaire whispers, his hips jerking with every stroke of Enjolras’ hand.

“So beautiful. So obedient. So lovely.” Enjolras nips slightly at his neck, not hard enough to really hurt, and Grantaire moans.

“Enjolras—“

“Come for me, good boy, just like that…” With gentle words and slow, even strokes, he wrings Grantaire dry. Grantaire pants soundlessly against Enjolras’ neck, burying his face, his hips jerking into Enjolras’ hand. He whimpers as he comes. 

Enjolras holds him close for a moment, until his limp body becomes too heavy. “Bed. Come on.”

He has to practically carry Grantaire the few feet to their bed, then pushes him down into it. Grantaire holds out his arms, expecting to be pulled close.

Enjolras, of course, obliges. “I’m proud of you,” he murmurs as he pulls Grantaire against his chest. “For asking for what you need. I know it’s hard.”

“It is.” Grantaire kisses his chest, the bare inch of skin at his unbuttoned shirt. “But I know you’ll take care of me.”


End file.
